


Fitting Into Your New Skin

by cuphugaddict



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Coming Out, Demi-Sexual Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, First Time, Gravely Injured Character, Homosexual Character, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Slow Build, chillywilly, unbetad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 18:25:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11950050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuphugaddict/pseuds/cuphugaddict
Summary: The shedding of one's skin in favor of growing into a new one is a process that rarely goes smoothly. Most of all in the truly unfortunate case of Dr. Frederick Chilton.In retrospect, Will should have anticipated that his long overdue visit of the former psychiatrist at the Baltimore State Intensive Care Rehabilitation Center would change his life just as much as the doctor's.





	Fitting Into Your New Skin

**Author's Note:**

> During finally catching up with season three that was way overdue, I wondered what would happen to Chilton after the whole Red Dragon-incident. Because as unlikely as I thought this to be on the basis of the books as well as the existing film adaptions, this series made me like Chilton somehow (which is surely rooted to a great extent in the superb portrayal by Raúl Esparza).
> 
> I want to state that I thankfully do not have extensive knowledge of the medical aspects that I address in this story (although I sadly know a little bit about severe burns of one's skin) so please be gentle with possible inaccuracies. 
> 
> Also, I am well aware that at the time this fan fiction takes place, Winston would most likely be already dead but I refuse to accept that - because Winston is awesome.
> 
> Other than that, have fun reading this :-)

 

Will took a deep breath and steadied himself on the wall in cheery yellow on his left. He hated institutions like this – where everybody was just keen on getting out again, no matter how psychologically adequate the colors of the walls were chosen. In addition, there was the artificial smell of woods lingering in every corner of the Baltimore State Intensive Care Rehabilitation Center. It made Will sick. He too was sure that no amount of yellow on the walls could brighten anyone’s day who was doomed to spend an individually different time in there. Lest of all the man he felt the responsibility to pay a visit. He had pushed that one off long enough after all.

 

Will pulled himself together, pushed himself off the wall and dared to take a look into room 237 – prepared to face whatever scenario that presented itself to him. He had spent the nights of the last week to accommodate himself to every option he could think of: Chilton crying out in pain and agony, Chilton depressed and wallowing in self-pity, Chilton screaming at him and blaming Will for everything that had happened to him or not talking at all, Chilton high as a kite on pain-killers and mood-enhancers … even the room to be empty, and a nurse telling him that Chilton had committed suicide.

 

As Will pushed the door that stood slightly ajar open with a small knock, he quickly assessed the situation and couldn’t quite place the same – it might well be a combination of the few that he had tried to prepare himself for. The number of possible combination was endless after all …

Frederick Chilton was sitting in a chair by the window, dressed in a bathrobe, glass of something transparent and without color, most likely water, with a straw standing on the table beside, a book in his lap and looking up at him through reading glasses. Will quietly asked himself what itched him about this picture – he could not yet put his finger on it. “Hello Frederick.”

 

Genuine surprise showed on the psychiatrists face before he quickly replaced it with his mask of indifference. Will noted pleasantly that he could make out facial expressions. “Mr. Graham.” Once Frederick spoke, Will realized that the psychiatrist didn’t wear his prosthetic from Miriam Lasses shot. That, however, was not what Will found to be ill fitting about that scenario …

 

“Once I heard you had returned from your honeymoon with the good doctor, I have to admit that I was quite surprised.” Will had to suppress a relieved smile that the sarcastic tone was back. “More so when Alana told me that she has taken back her position at the BSHCI. Am I right to assume that you turned him in again?”

 

The right corner of Will’s lips turned up, “It’s really good to see you Frederick.”

 

If there would be eyebrows, he was sure that there would be a raised one. Chilton clapped his book shut and placed it on the table. Will noted that it was not as previously assumed a scientific one but William S. Burroughs’s _Naked Lunch_. Now it was Will’s turn to raise an eyebrow, “Feeling sarcastic?” He walked over and took a seat at the table. Invited or not, if Frederick wouldn’t have wanted him here, he would have said something already.

 

“I’ve read it five times already … still doesn’t get boring”, Frederick said with a shrug, “At least I can close it whenever it gets too intense …” Will visibly flinched and remained silent – as did Frederick, who however, after a prolonged period of silence, was the first to raise his voice again, “So glad you didn’t bring flowers!” he exclaimed mock-joyfully and Will rolled his eyes, albeit in an amused way. “No seriously, I mean … The only thing worse than people bringing in flowers are the ones who send them. It makes everything even more pretentious …”

 

Will nodded, “Maybe they give them to you because they look pretty …” he tried but saw that his poor attempt failed. Sure, he was over-empathic, he knew that, but everybody in their right mind who thought about that whole scenario that had unfortunately happened to Frederick Chilton for a second would realize that all the nerves in Frederick’s nose had been burned. Why on earth would somebody send flowers?

 

“Did Alana bring flowers?” Will asked out of curiosity … and because he wanted to know if she kept in contact.

 

“Thrice. Before I told her that this was ridiculous and she should saver herself the money as well as the trouble. She still brings one in weekly … out of spite, I know it.”

 

Will chuckled and Frederick aimed at a grin. “How did they do it?” was the next thing Will asked once he had a thorough look at Frederick’s lips.

 

“Muscles from my thigh, apparently. The structure seems to be the same, or that’s what they say anyway … I just find it strange.” Will nodded again, “Can you feel anything … on your lips I mean.”

 

“On my fake lips you mean …” Frederick asked and Will shrugged, “No. Not really at least. Sometimes they prickle, which the doctors say is a good sign for the nerve endings connecting. But I’m not sure. Most of the time, it feels numb.”

 

“One does not hear that, you already talk really, really well again, Frederick. And can you still …” Will started but Frederick interrupted him, “What is this all about, Mr. Graham? Cross examination? The last time I had that I got shot in the face that is now burned off, so please excuse me for wanting to know your ulterior motives for this conversation.”

 

As much as Will hated it, he had a point. When it came to Dr. Frederick Chilton, the FBI did certainly not look its best. The thing was that there was no motive for his visit. It had just felt the right thing to do. Even though he knew that he could never have foreseen that the Red Dragon would go for Chilton and not him, he still felt responsible. He had lain his hand onto Frederick’s back after all … like a pet, as Frederick at their first visit after the fiasco had pointed out so precisely. He had meant nothing by it at the time … maybe an unconscious move for suggesting their closeness, or maybe even his superiority over the psychiatrist, but never would he have thought it would come out like it did. It had shocked him, to say the least. If he looked at the picture today, he almost couldn’t bear to look at Frederick’s small and confident smile …

 

“There are none”, he finally said, “I just wanted to pay you a visit Frederick. And to … And to apologize.”

 

Frederick snorted, “You already did that …”

 

Will nodded and sought eye contact, “I know but … somehow I feel like I can never provide apology enough, no matter what I do.”

 

To his surprise it was Frederick who broke the eye contact this time, “If that’s true, what are you even doing here anymore? You’ve been here, seen me, and apologized. You can check the according boxes on your mental list and get on with your life.”

 

Will nodded in understanding. He might sometimes be on the slow side of picking up cues of social interaction but this definitely was one: “I see. I’ll go then … May I come back … sometime?” he asked almost as an afterthought.

 

“I’m hardly in a position to keep you from doing that …” Frederick grumbled and Will, after a “Goodbye Frederick. And I’m glad to see that you’re … improving” left the room. Only after he had entered the elevator he realized what it was that hadn’t seemed right about the whole picture: Frederick Chilton had worn an old, thin and scruffy bathrobe.

 

 

 

 

The next time Will visited Fredrick about two weeks after his first trip to the BSICRC, he briefly knocked on the door but only stopped once he had dumped a copy of Bukowski’s _Notes of a Dirty Old Man_ onto the table he found the psychiatrist sitting at again. At Frederick’s “Now who is being sarcastic?” Will dropped down onto “his” chair again. “I just thought you shouldn’t have to read _Naked Lunch_ a seventh time.”

 

“Has it crossed your mind that I might want to read it a seventh time?” Frederick shot back.

 

Will grinned, “Maybe, but surely not right after the sixth.”

 

Frederick snorted but pulled the book closer to him after a few moments. Will watched Frederick inspecting the book as if it might blow up any moment. His face looked way better; the scars were healing, it looked like he had some sort of skin transplant to cover up the utterly destroyed pieces of skin … the only thing truly missing was the hair. Will didn’t want to appear to “cross-examine” Frederick again but still he asked himself if he would try and get hair transplants too. He did seem like the type of man who would but then again, this was before … Before he chose to wear that batted bathrobe.

 

“So Frederick, confess”, Will said and attempted a smile at the frowning man, “Why are you wearing that old bathrobe?” And why are you here in the State Rehabilitation Center instead of an expensive private one? Why are you just sitting here, reading?

 

Frederick sighed, “Would it matter if I wore one worthy of Louis the 14th? I am disfigured now, again, I might add, and I just … I can’t do it anymore.” At Will’s frown, Frederick elaborated, “The façade, Graham. I just … It doesn’t even matter anymore.”

 

Will shook his head, “I don’t understand …”

 

“Oh come on!” It was the first time that the other man had raised his voice, “You are supposed to be the empathic mastermind; you surely figured out that I put on a show for everybody. As _Dr. Bloom_ so kindly put it after I had been attacked by …” his breath hitched and he quickly looked out of the window, “Dolarhyde: _You were never comfortable in your own skin._ And she was right, I never have been, not for as long as I can remember.”

 

Will nodded, his torso turning towards the psychiatrist, “Sure but … why doesn’t it matter anymore?”

 

Frederick Chilton chuckled and carefully rubbed his eyes, “Because now, I’m not even in a position to pretend I am part of the crowd. I’ve had my chance, wrote what I had to say into that goddamn book and people still didn’t respect me. Lest of all the ones I wished so desperately to do just that …”

 

Will frowned, wondering who he was referring to. Hannibal? The FBI? The psychiatric community? Not wanting to upset the other man further, he asked instead, “How so?”

 

Frederick rolled his eyes, “Now who is treating whom here, Mr. Graham? I have been aware that I did not have the perks of being overly attractive before, but now, people can’t even dare to look at me anymore. I highly doubt that I am going to be invited to any dinners of The Society in the near future. … Hence, there is no more need for me to pretend. I am just going to sit here and wallow in my misery – reading _Naked Lunch_ a seventh time if I damn well please to.”

 

“And an eighth …” Will smirked and Frederick leaned forward onto the table as if he wanted to attack him any second.

 

“You know what? Maybe …” Will nodded, small smile still prominent on his face, as he too leaned onto the table, “Don’t laugh at me, Will Graham. You don’t even know what lengths I have …” he swallowed shaking his head, “Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to have to learn to talk again? Like a toddler? How it feels to tell the hospital personnel that they should help you to the fucking bathroom but that stupid young night sister does not understand you so …” Frederick shook his head and looked out the window again. Then, almost as an afterthought, the psychiatrist said, “I am just so tired of it all …”

 

With shocking clarity the weight of Frederick’s words came crashing down on Will. Sure, he knew that disablements like those Frederick had suffered most likely colored the future actions of their recipients; he could even give a list of possible behavioral patterns. However what they truly _meant_ , on a daily basis, was never something he considered, didn’t have to consider until now. But right now, he was sitting here, in the company of a man who he had considered to be vain and arrogant beyond measure … and he felt for him. Mostly because he came to realize that he had probably been wrong about Frederick – at least considering certain aspects.

 

“I appreciate you taking some of your precious time and spending the same with me, but would you mind leaving me and Mr. Bukowski alone?”

 

Frederick’s voice brought Will back to reality and he quickly got up, almost flustered. “Of course. Goodbye Frederick”, he said and walked towards the door. Before he got out properly, however, he turned around one last time: “You know what Frederick? It’s true, I knew you were putting up a façade and were generally trying too hard. I knew that you envied Hannibal and sometimes even me and our insights that you wished you had …” Frederick looked positively murderous back at him, “But do you know what I always admired about you? That, no matter what happened to you and no matter how bad it was, you never gave up”, Will shrugged, “That’s more than I can say for myself. So please don’t disappoint me now Frederick.” And without waiting another second, he fled the room.

 

 

 

 

“You know, for somebody who is supposed to be an empathic genius you have terrible bedside manner”, Frederick said, scowling at the copy of Gaston Leroux’ _Phantom of the Opera_. “One might even call you rude.”

 

Will chuckled and leaned against the frame of the hospital bed in room 237 as Frederick, for the first time since Will had started his visits, was standing at the window overlooking the park and not sitting at his table, wearing his facial prosthetic. “So the cane is back?” Will stated and pointedly looked at Frederick’s familiar walking aid.

 

“Yes, seems like I’m finally going to really need it.” He crocked his head, “Alana has one too now … You probably should also get one.”

 

“Like a Hannibal Lecter survival-token?” Will smirked and realized that it became easier and easier to open up to Frederick with every visit, “Or we could all get T-Shirts?”

 

Frederick scoffed, “That’s more Freddie Lounds’ métier.”

 

Will raised his finger in agreement and walked over to stand with Frederick besides the window. “You wanna go out for a bit?” As he was met with Frederick’s non-present raised eyebrow, he shrugged, “Since, you know, you’re already standing and everything?”

 

The psychiatrist snorted but soon returned to seriousness, “I would like to … but we’d have to wait for another day … I am not allowed out in the sunlight”, he answered Will’s silent question.

 

“Of course, because of your skin …” Frederick’s visitor concluded.

 

“Because of my skin …”

 

 

 

 

“This is NOT what I meant … Gah!”

 

Will smiled although the rain flung itself into his face like a wet wall. “What did you say?”

 

All he could see was Frederick turning his head lightly but his face was covered in the hood of his jacket. “I said”, he practically screamed, “this was NOT WHAT I MEANT! This is madness!”

 

For the first time since the whole thing with Hannibal went down, Will found himself laughing out loudly, “I cannot hear you!” he screamed, speeding up and racing down the path in the park with Frederick in the Center’s wheelchair.

 

“I SAID … OH SHUT UP!”

 

Once they re-entered the BSICRC under the judgmental stares of the personnel as well as the patients, dripping wet, Will was sure the shakes from Frederick were not due to the fact that he was cold but as well caused by the attempt to suppress roaring laughter.

After they had left a wet trail from the elevator to Frederick’s room, Will shrugged out of his jacket before he helped the psychiatrist out of his after the same had maneuvered himself out of the wheelchair. “It is like I always said: You are a lunatic, Will Graham, and nothing less!” Frederick shook his head while Will only looked at him disarmingly, “It is a common believe that getting out of one’s comfort zone might serve to improve one’s well-being.”

 

“I’m sure this does not apply to cold showers – that have been proven almost entirely useless as treatment, by the way.” Frederick scowled and pealed himself out of his damp sweater. Will noted with satisfaction that he moved with more ease than he did before. His new skin started to finally fit him. However, the psychiatrist seemed to be a lot thinner than he had been before. It was the first time that Will noticed it. Maybe because it was the first time that he had seen Frederick without the bathrobe; weight changes were not easily detectable in Frederick’s face after all …

 

“Talking of showers: Would you like to take one?” Will asked and gained yet another one of Frederick Chilton’s disapproving looks. “You …” Will waved his hand, “You’ll get a cold …”

 

“And shouldn’t you have thought about that before you dragged me out in the pouring rain?” Frederick shot back accusingly but Will saw a smile tugging at his lips. “Should I … help you?” Will offered half-heartedly. Sure, he had come to know Frederick better these last weeks but he was sure they weren’t exactly on shower-terms yet. Thankfully, the psychiatrist shook his head, “There’s staff here for that …”

 

Will nodded, “Of course. Well, it was a pleasure, Dr. Chilton.”

 

“Goodbye Mr. Graham …” the other man said and as Will was again almost out of the door, he turned on his heels. “Here, I almost forgot …” he said and pulled a book wrapped in a plastic bag from his jacket and handed it over to Frederick. At the back of his mind he noted that it was the first time that Frederick had actually bid him goodbye. The small smile playing on his lips only widened when a shout followed him on his way to the elevator: “Rain: A Natural And Cultural History? You’ve got to be kidding me!!!”

 

 

 

 

“Oh come on, it can’t be that bad …” Will tried encouragingly but Frederick only shook his head, “This whole ordeal is tedious enough without you being witness to my incapability …”

 

In hindsight, Will guessed that he should have thought about the fact that Frederick still couldn’t eat properly. Still, the last time he had seen the psychiatrist he had become aware of his weight loss and decided on bringing him something to eat. Vegetarian Stew. That Frederick refused to eat. “I just thought since you already talk so well … I didn’t think that you still don’t have feeling in your lips …” Will mumbled almost apologetically, “I can go if you want …”

 

The former profiler looked at his companion with uncertainty but Frederick simply stared back. After what felt like an eternity to Will, Frederick reached out his hand, “Give me the spoon …” Will smiled brightly as he handed the spoon he had brought with him over to the other man while the same opened the container, “I truly hope this does not contain any meat …”

 

Will nodded, “Problems with digesting animal protein, I remembered …” Will confirmed and Frederick looked at him in surprise. That look however was soon masked with his usual mocking expression, “I swear to God, if you laugh I am going to run you over with my wheelchair, Will Graham.”

 

Will found himself still smiling, “Was that a threat, Doctor Chilton?”

 

“Damn right it was …” the former psychiatrist said before he took a deep breath and he took a spoon full of Will’s still steaming stew. He then carefully placed the spoon against his lips and sipped. That first taste of Will’s meal went without incident, as did the second one, but the third one had Frederick sputter and cough and Will was up and over at Chilton’s side in an instant, carefully clapping him on the back. “I’m fine, I’m FINE …” the psychiatrist said after his coughs have died down but Will noted how he looked down on his stained pajamas with utter disgust. Will slowly walked back to his seat as Frederick braced himself again, “It’s good …” he muttered.

 

“Can you taste it?” Will couldn’t stop himself from asking and Frederick nodded, “I cannot make out the finer nuances of meals but generally, my sense of taste still works.” Will nodded, that was good. Something at least. After a few more successful attempts at eating his stew, a second fit of coughs emerged, this time worse than the first one. Again, Will was at his side and rubbing his back soothingly. Once the coughing had died down and the table was successfully covered in pieces of potatoes, tomatoes and paprika, Will reached for the glass of water. “Here, have a sip, Frederick …” Will offered gently and the other man did so without saying a word but Will noted the slight coloring of his cheeks that was surely not entirely from the coughs. Will kept running his hand up and down Frederick’s back until the breathing of the other man had evened out again, not entirely sure if the other man could even feel it. “It is so degrading …” Will could make out the other man’s whisper, so he sat down right next to him.

 

“You are doing so well with everything Frederick, truly, there is nothing to be ashamed of”, Will emphasized and hoped that the other man would believe him.

 

When the patient of the BSICRC looked up at Will again, the same saw that he had tears in his eyes – from the coughing or something else, the former FBI agent could not say. “It’s just …” Frederick started, “It’s just that I don’t feel that well in my lips … so I don’t always feel the spoon …”

 

Will squeezed the other man’s shoulder lightly, “You have nothing to apologize for …”

 

“Those stupid exercises aren’t helping one bit either …” Frederick muttered and Will enquired about them immediately. For a change of topic. Apparently, the doctors at the Center thought that Frederick should put different amounts of pressure against his lips to stimulate the nerves. The psychiatrist told Will that as often as he thought about it, he did as much but the whole situation hadn’t really improved since then.

 

“Those things take time”, Will soothed and took hold of the piece of cutlery again that lay forlorn on the table next to his half-empty box of stew. After he scooped up another potato and a bit of sauce, he offered it wordlessly to the other man. Again, Will was sure that one of his eyebrows would have been raised. Will only shrugged, “I won’t tell if you don’t …” he offered in an attempt of lightheartedness.

 

Almost like in slow motion, Frederick opened his lips and carefully took the offered piece of food. As it went down smoothly, Will smiled encouragingly. Over the next few bites, the former psychiatrist’s resolve sank and the container emptied itself. Once it was empty, Will nodded in confidence – more to himself than to the other man. A snort from Frederick made him look up. “Are you going to wipe me with a napkin now?” he asked mockingly, which was followed by a “What are you doing?” as Will reached for a napkin.

 

“What can I say, you have the best ideas Frederick …” Will said and for the first time realized that he liked how the name of the other man sounded slipping from his tongue which was probably why he used it so often. As he lessened the distance between the napkin in his hand and Frederick’s lips the other man looked like he truly was lost now. His breath quickened, his eyes started to race from one side to the other. Will slowed his hand down, gave the other man the opportunity to turn away or make his refusal known otherwise. He almost felt like those times when he tried to rescue a scared dog.

 

As the napkin touched Frederick’s face for the first time, the other man shied away slowly but then let Will touch him with the piece of paper. His gaze intently focused on the other man’s lips, Will did not see the almost panicked look on the former psychiatrist’s face. He could feel it though. “Can you feel that?” Will asked and hoped that he could calm the other one at least a bit. “Mhm” was the answer that was followed by an almost audible swallow. “And that …?” the curly-haired man asked and lessened the pressure. This time, Frederick only nodded and Will smiled. “Good … and that?” he asked again before he let the napkin fall on the table and he traced his finger alongside the scarred skin that would one day become Frederick’s lower lip, “Can you feel the difference in texture?”

 

The sound that escaped the psychiatrists lips surprised Will – however not as much as the sudden jerk back of the other man did that knocked the whole container still sitting on the table over. “Leave!” Frederick said, but as Will didn’t move – mostly out of surprise – the other man started screaming blue murder that made Will retreat hastily out of the room, apologizing to Linda, the nurse who rushed immediately towards the room, not knowing what he had done wrong. “I guess it would be better if you leave him for the day Will”, Linda said with an apologizing gaze and Will only nodded. “I’m sorry …” he said before he hurried towards the elevator and was glad once the doors were shut and he was on his way down. A panic attack had started to rise. Only at home when he wanted to hang up his coat after he was greeted by his dogs he realized that he didn’t even give Frederick the book he had bought him: Hans Christan Anderson’s _The Ugly Duckling_.

 

 

 

 

Will was once again fixing his vacuum cleaner – and finally he was admitting to himself that maybe he should get a new one – when his dogs started barking. This meant that a car was approaching; they barked different when somebody was closing in on foot. Will stood up, clumsily wiping his hand on his jeans and just got a glimpse of a taxi that was slowly rolling into his driveway. Curious, he made his way to the porch. Who on earth would pay a taxi to drive out to Wolf Trap?

Out of said taxi that seemed so lost in its surroundings got one Frederick Chilton, wrapped tightly in a pea coat despite the quite warm autumn weather. Will was sure that this was caused by the fact that he still hadn’t gained any weight since Will’s last visit about four weeks ago. After Frederick’s last outburst, Will hadn’t dared to go back again. _The Ugly Duckling_ still lay on the window pane he had left it at that day. On top of Frederick’s head sat a woolen hat that seemed to battle itself with the scruffy bathrobe to gain the title: “Item that Will thought Doctor Frederick Chilton least likely to possess”. He still thought that the bathrobe might win. He hadn’t however decided definitively.

 

“Frederick … To say that this is a surprise would be an understatement”, Will called out.

 

The psychiatrist steadied himself on his cane, carrying a plastic bag in his other hand. “Are you going to kick me out immediately or only after a little while?” the doctor said and at Will’s frown he clarified, “I need to tell the driver …”

 

Will nodded, “I’ll decide over a cup of coffee …”

 

Frederick paid and as soon as the car rolled out of Will’s driveway again, his dogs came rushing towards the man some of them had already met. Seeing the horror in Chilton’s eyes as well as the tight grip on his cane, Will whistled. “Dogs, down!” he shouted and all of them stopped immediately. All of them except Winston, who danced over to the man in Will’s driveway and curiously sniffed his hand before he bit into the plastic bag, took it from the doctor’s hand and a slightly disturbed “Uh … thanks … dog” of Frederick following the animal on his way over to Will. The curly-haired man had to chuckle.

 

“Thank you Winston”, Will cooed as he bent down and petted the dog with the dark sprinkles, “That was very considerate of you …” Standing up and looking at his guest who was followed by the curious gazes of the dogs, Will asked “Is this intended for me?” he asked and raised the bag.

 

Frederick, carefully approaching on the soft underground, nodded, “It’s your … ah … your container. I still had that.”

 

Will nodded, realizing that he hadn’t even thought about it. “Thanks Frederick. Very considerate as well …” As the other man reached the steps of the porch, Will continued, “But you surely didn’t come all the way to Wolf Trap to return this old container to me …”

 

“The abilities of your perception are, as usual, unmatched Mr. Graham”, Frederick sneered but Will saw no true malice in his eyes. “Didn’t you say something about coffee?”

 

Will grinned and nodded, holding the door open for Frederick as well as the following bunch of dogs and asking him to sit wherever he liked while he put on the coffee. “But mind the vacuum cleaner … Don’t trip over the wires.”

 

Once Will returned with two mugs, Frederick sat at the table, the entirety of his dogs sitting around his chair, watching. Needless to say, Frederick eyed them almost in panic at which Will had to chuckle. Frederick looked up, “I can see that you have successfully introduced your dogs to the art of investigation …”

 

“They’re not used to visitors, so they’re curious …” Will explained while he sat down the mugs on the table.

 

“Thank you … ah … could you … do you have a … straw?” The last word was barely a whisper.

 

“Uhm ...” Will deflected as he was pretty sure that he didn’t have one. Stupid! Why didn’t he think about that beforehand? Usually, he thought about things like that …

 

Frederick waved his hand, “Doesn’t matter … You do have a spoon, don’t you?”

 

Will nodded animatedly, “Yes, sure. Sure. I’ll uh … get you one.”

 

“And bring some sugar if you have some, please.” Will only nodded to himself.

Once returned to the table, some of the dogs had settled down, some were still eyeing Frederick critically, only Winston had gotten up and lain his head on the former psychiatrist’s upper leg.

 

“Thank you”, Frederick accepted both the sugar and the spoon gladly.

 

Will only nodded and felt the room heat up with uneasy tension. He reached his hand out to get his mug, but found himself pulling back again. Was it acceptable to just drink in front of Frederick? When he had to shuffle spoon per spoon of coffee into his mouth? Instead, Will asked, “So, what brings you out here Frederick?”

 

The other man sighed, “I guess there’s no dignifying way to say this: I am sorry for my reaction the last time you visited … William.”

 

Intrigued, Will looked up. “You’ve never called me that.”

 

Frederick frowned, “What? William?”

 

“No, you only ever call me Mr. Graham …” Will mused.

 

“Hm, I’ve never considered that …” Frederick said but Will saw right through him, of course. “Liar!” he grinned and finally settled to take a sip of his coffee when he saw Frederick smiling back.

 

“Thank you for the apology, Frederick”, Will added almost as an afterthought.

 

The other man nodded and after three more spoons of coffee, he added, “I … I missed your visits.”

 

Will knew how much effort an apology, never mention a confession like that cost a man like Frederick Chilton. Will looked at the man in curious wonder, maybe not quite unlike Winston – although the dog seemed way more relaxed than he did.

 

“Why did you … react the way you did? I … don’t understand”, Will replied, shaking his head. And really, there was nothing undignified in having his chin wiped ... most of all in the condition Frederick had been in.

 

To his surprise, the psychiatrist started to chuckle, “Who would have thought that narcissist, annoying and sad Chilton would be the first man who would remain a mystery to the mind of Will Graham?”

 

Will frowned, “Most people remain a mystery to me. I am only good at reconstructing what they already did. … And you’re not sad …” he added.

 

“But narcissist and annoying?” Frederick teased but again, Will knew what he was trying to do.

 

“You’re deflecting. Why did you react the way you have?” Will insisted and Frederick sighed.

 

“I …” the psychiatrist looked down into his mug of coffee, “Let’s just say the situation got too intimate and I overreacted.” Will only frowned at that, which the man opposite of him obviously took as a clue that Will did not intend in the slightest, “Christ, I suppose it had to come out someday …” Will followed curiously how the hand Frederick patted Winton with dug deep into the dog’s fur as if looking for comfort. But what would …

 

_Oh._

 

Will could safely say that he had never given a single thought about Frederick’s sexuality – he usually didn’t when it came to people he worked with. Or he knew from work. It just was something secondary in his line of employment – except if it was a relevant component in one of the cases, of course. But it made sense for Frederick, Will supposed. Suddenly his whole _persona_ and why he had constructed it so carefully seemed a lot clearer than before. Apparently, he really hadn’t been comfortable in his own skin and tried to compensate in every other way he could think of.

 

Oh dear, and there was the blush. So apparently, Frederick knew that he knew. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of Frederick …” Will offered half-heartedly, not knowing what else he could say. Despite that, he was well aware that he had already used that phrase with the psychiatrist, albeit in another context.

 

“That’s easy for you to say …” the man sitting at Will’s table mumbled. The curly-haired man only frowned. Frederick rolled his eyes, “You are an emphatic genius, sought after by the FBI and researchers alike, who happened to be interesting enough to rouse the attention of one Hannibal Lecter, decent looking and, most importantly, heterosexual.”

 

Will chuckled mockingly, “Decent looking?” He raised an eyebrow at which Frederick only shrugged, but Will saw the blush on his face deepening. “I suppose I don’t have a say in that matter but just to be clear about other things: I am not hetero- but demi-sexual.”

 

“Oh …” Frederick peaked up, “Really?”

 

“Yep”, Will confirmed and now he was the one sporting a nice blush. He had never said that out loud, at least not that he could remember. It just didn’t matter to him that much, he supposed.

 

“Interesting”, Frederick mused and Will saw the psychiatrist spring to life in the other man, “So you bonded with your wife over …”

 

“Ex-wife”, Will clarified, still feeling a stab of guilt that he couldn’t save his marriage after the whole Red Dragon-fiasco, “We had a shared love of strays and it went on from there …”

 

Frederick nodded, “I see. … And I’m sorry. Is this why you live out here again?”

 

Now it was Will’s turn to nod, “Yes. Even when I moved away, I couldn’t bear to sell this house. I’ve practically lived here all my life. It’s not much but … It’s home I guess. So I kept it.”

 

“Wise decision, apparently”, Frederick said and Will smiled sadly before he asked, “Did Alana tell you I lived here again?”

 

“She did”, Frederick said and Will scolded himself for the umpteenth time that he still hadn’t gotten in contact with her since he was back. Maybe because she reminded him too much of what happened in this life he so desperately tried to shake off. “Come to think of it”, Frederick continued and brought Will back from his trail of thoughts, “Alana?”

 

Will had to take a moment to locate the question in its according context and frowned, “I guess we both felt lost at that time in our lives. Funnily enough there are no feelings there anymore”, Will thought aloud, “Not that it would matter. I think she’s happy with Margo.”

 

“Yeah, that one truly surprised me …” Frederick admitted and Will smiled, “I think they are good for each other …” He really did. Both men sat a few moments in silence and Will could feel the presence of the elephant in the room. “Come on, Frederick, ask …” Will encouraged, “or it will plague you all your life that you didn’t.”

 

“Cheeky, aren’t we?” Frederick said but then exhaled, “What was it with Hannibal? Deep emotional connection over shared genius tendencies?”

 

Will laughed out loudly at that one, “Not in the slightest. I have to say that the whole thing with Hannibal was a bit of a cheat from the very beginning. I mean I practically was emotionally dependent on him – an unhealthy addiction that I could only take back bit by bit.” Oh and what losses did he have to endure for that one! “Still, I think we connected over … the curse to live with personality traits that the majority of society considers to be disorders.” Will smiled, “It can be liberating, to be understood. One feels … loved”, Will admitted while unpleasant goosebumps spread over his arms.

 

Frederick nodded, “I think I can see that … Although I have to say your abilities cannot be compared to cannibalism. I’m sorry there but in that sense you cannot live up to the good doctor”, Frederick curled one corner of his lips up and Will smiled at him.

 

“I choose to take this as a compliment, Doctor Chilton. However, people still thought us both to be bat-shit crazy”, Will said before he finished his coffee. “What was it that Freddie Lounds called us?” he asked and immediately wanted to bite his tongue off for mentioning the journalist. Frederick however looked up at him, “Murder-Husbands”.

 

Will nodded and chuckled, “That’s right, murder-husbands.”

 

Frederick straightened slightly on his chair, “Personally, I thought that it was quite blatant. She could have come up with something better …”

 

Will raised an eyebrow, “What? Not enough reference to the whole mental-disorder thing?”

 

Frederick gave Winston another pat, “Exactly.”

 

Will chuckled and Frederick smiled up at him before they returned to keeping each other company in a much more pleasant silence than before. The dogs shuffled around, Frederick took in the scenery in front of Will’s house through his windows and the former profiler allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment. It felt good. Right now, his life felt good.

 

“Frederick?” Will asked after a not further specified amount of time. The “Hmm?” from the other man indicated that he too felt quite relaxed – a fact for which Will was truly grateful. He had never been a good host after all.

 

“You don’t have to answer that one of course, but why are you … uncomfortable with your sexual orientation? I mean, it's widely accepted now, isn’t it?” Will had to confess that he didn’t know. He himself had abandoned the worry about other people’s opinions about him a long time ago. Frederick of course was a different matter.

 

The man sitting opposite him at the table exhaled, “Huh, well it is widely accepted in a very hypocrite sense, I assume. Everyone is fine with it – especially in our pretentious high-brow circles – until you sit at dinner with them, your boyfriend at your side and earn sneers and not-quite-joking remarks about it.”

 

Will looked up, immediately feeling sorry for the former psychiatrist. “Did that happen to you?”

 

Frederick shook his head, “No. I was never brave enough to actually bring somebody. Well, partly because of a lack of a _somebody_ , partly because I just couldn’t bring myself to be the object of public ridicule again. … And then of course there is the thing about me feeling guilty, ashamed and perverted because of it all even though I perfectly know that it is ridiculous. That’s what a catholic upbringing does to you, I guess.”

 

Will frowned, “Why were you the object of public ridicule?” Again the profiler was sure that if the other man had eyebrows, they would be raised, “Sais the guy who publicly framed my after Alana Bloom told him that she wouldn’t be stupid enough to supplement his claims in the Tattler which should draw out the Red Dragon.”

 

Will blushed and looked down onto the floor and only Frederick’s voice, that was much gentler than he had anticipated, brought his gaze back up again. “Don’t worry, I didn’t mean that. At least you weren’t cruel about it.” Will narrowed his gaze and looked quizzically at the other man. What did he mean? Of course he had been cruel …

 

“No, I mean … Yes, you were but you were doing it to bring a crazy mass murderer out so that he couldn’t hurt anybody else. As you have said yourself, you couldn’t possibly anticipate that he would react the way he did. … You had a purpose, you were cruel for a reason, an important one, no less. The others did not have such a thing.”

 

Will frowned, awkwardly touched by the other man’s words that tried to justify in a really twisted way what he had done, “What …” Will cleared his throat, “What others?”

 

“What others indeed?” Frederick sighed and set out to rub his eyes, snapping his fingers back, “I am not supposed to do that … yet, you know. Skin is still too sensitive and such.” Will bit his lip and Frederick sighed again, “What others was the question … Well, pick one: The kids at school who made fun of me because of my accent, the fellow students who mocked me because I couldn’t afford to reside on campus but had to live in a dump and work my way through college, which lasted a few years longer due to the horrendous night shifts, friends of my mother from church who told me that with enough faith, I could be _cured_ and live a normal life or the society for continuingly inquiring – _professionally of course_ – why I couldn’t draw out more research insights of the patients I had at hand every single day at my former job.” Will had to swallow while Frederick chuckled bitterly, “Well, confession day I guess.”

 

“None of these people ever had to actually do what you did every day, Frederick.” The former psychiatrist frowned, “The other … doctors, they … none of them worked, I mean, actually worked with … criminally insane people. They don’t know how they are, how different they are. Everyone trying another way to stop you from getting something … anything out of them. Manipulating in every way they can think of. I … it’s hard to work in an environment like that every day, let alone write articles in those goddamn high-ranked journals about their diseases!” Wil gesticulated wildly, “They just don’t know what they are talking about. You were doing a very fine job Frederick. … And I’m afraid that none of us has given you enough credit for that either.”

 

The psychiatrist truly looked at a loss at Will’s words, “Uh … Thank – Thank you, Will. … William. Mr. Graham.”

 

The following silence between them changed into a dense one again. Surprising to himself, Will thought of something to say, “What accent did you have?” He had to admit that he was really curious as he could not detect any trace of it anymore.

 

Frederick looked up cheekily at him, “Spanish.”

 

“Spanish?” Will exclaimed in surprise, “Are you Spanish?”

 

Frederick smiled, “Half … well, half-Cuban, actually. My mother.”

 

Will smiled, “Really? Were you raised bilingual then?”

 

Frederick shook his head, “Nope.” And really, since when did Frederick Chilton use words like _Nope_? “Otherwise I might have left the accent behind much earlier. My mother was only married to my father long enough to get his name and become pregnant. Maybe she had gotten pregnant before, I don’t know.” Will frowned at the clearly obvious distaste the other man had for his father. “She was his house-keeper. Cliché, I know. He was a surgeon. Dumped her right after she gave birth to me to marry the next maid. Or go on holiday with her or something, whatever. Anyway, she got nothing – he had the better lawyers, obviously. So I grew up in less-than ideal circumstances in purely Hispanic surroundings.”

 

“Hence the accent”, Will concluded and Frederick nodded, “Hence the accent.”

 

“I’m sorry about that Frederick”, Will said and got a tiny smile in return. “I guess she just wanted the best for me, to not end up like she did, turning each penny thrice. Having a normal life – which is why she took my … my homosexuality the way she did.”

 

“How did she take it?” Will asked, at which Frederick only replied, “Well, not good.” Another spoon of coffee was shoved into his mouth before the psychiatrist continued, “I kept telling myself, back when I was still giving thoughts to things like that, that she just didn’t know better. And really, she couldn’t have. She just believed that – in a nutshell – all homosexuals are deviants who have AIDS. And I can’t blame her for wanting to preserve her son from a fate like that.”

 

Will nodded thoughtfully, “It is understandable. And”, he continued, “it speaks very highly of you that you depict her actions the way you do.” Frederick crocked his head to one side, hand moving in Winston’s fur. “Is this why you aren’t … _out_?” He cringed, inwardly and outwardly.

 

Frederick took a deep breath, “Well, I never lied about it …” he said and Will nodded. He understood. “You never lied about it but you have prevented all situations that might have … risen suspicion.”

 

“Exactly”, Frederick said and cast his eyes further down, onto Winston.

 

Will sighed, nodding. He understood. He finally understood Frederick Chilton and was almost ashamed that he, who had been considered a most valuable empath, had considered the other man one of the shallowest human beings he had ever come across. Clearly, he had been wrong, as today had most powerfully proven.

 

“Thank you, Frederick.” At the confused look of the other man, Will clarified, “For trusting me enough to share … all of this with me.” He aimed at a half-smile that was met with that familiar curl of lips, “I am asking you, what do I have to loose nowadays?”

 

“Good point”, Will chuckled before a thought crossed his mind, “Which reminds me …” He got up, went to the window and took his copy of Anderson’s tale over to his dining table. “I had that with me last time at the BSICRC, but I didn’t get to give it to you.”

 

“The Ugly Duckling” Frederick read and started chuckling himself, “This is getting worse and worse, Mr. Graham.”

 

Will smiled, “You think? I always thought of it as very promising, providing perspective.”

 

Frederick tucked the book fondly into the coat he had draped over the back of the chair, “I’ll read it under these claims and get back to you about that …” Will’s smile grew, if possible, “Do that, Doctor Chilton.” In fact, he had thought about the fact how the shedding of one’s skin enabled said individual to turn into something beautiful seemed oddly fitting at the time he had bought the book.

 

“It’s getting late, I should go”, Frederick said and it was only then that Will realized that the sun had begun to sink, “Could you please call me a cab?”

 

“I can take you”, Will immediately offered, explaining that the taxi would take ages to get out here. Maybe he was justifying his offer to himself just a little bit too. Frederick accepted with an, “Thank you. If the dogs are fine without you that long …” Will smiled and helped Frederick gather all his things and get into his run-down car. The psychiatrist however did not mention it, only sniffed slightly at the universally present dog-smell. “To the BSICRC?” Will asked but Frederick shook his head. “No, I’m out of there now. I have a town house …”

 

Will nodded and started the car, while Frederick explained how he had not been able to spend more time in his country house after Hannibal had murdered those agents there. Will could relate almost too well …

 

On their drive they at parts chatted, at parts remained silent, weighing the things that had been revealed during the afternoon individually. And what revelations that had been. Will almost wanted to smash his head against the steering wheel. As he parked his car in front of Frederick’s house, the other man thanked him for his inconveniences.

 

“No problem, Frederick. I really …” he cleared his throat, “I enjoyed today. It was nice that you visited me.”

 

Frederick mirrored his smile as best as he could, “I enjoyed it too. And thank you for the book …”

 

Will took a deep breath before he lay his hand on Chilton’s, “We should meet again …” The other man almost jerked back at the touch, but nodded, “Yes, we really should. … Well, we know where each of us lives now, so …”

 

“So”, Will said and grinned, “Good night!”

 

The former psychiatrist stepped out of the car, “Good night … William.”

 

 

 

 

Over the next few months Will met Frederick quite a lot of times – one time, he even made a joke about that, implying that if things went on like that, he could not believably maintain his status as an anti-social hermit. Frederick had only grinned up at him, “And we cannot have that, can we, Mr. Graham?” Despite the looming loss of his previously well-known status as a possibly-crazy loner, both men kept meeting. Sometimes, Will would drive to the city to visit Frederick’s town house that had reminded Will uncannily of the country-house the man had previously owned. Clean, white and impersonal. Still, over the few times Will had visited the former psychiatrist, the white surfaces were continually taken over by blankets, books and bottles of lotion. Frederick had to constantly keep his skin moist so that the transplants were connecting to the remaining pieces of his skin. Once, Will brought him a truly hideous quilt, one that he had gotten as a present for his dogs but had never used. Instead, the dark-green and deep-red monstrosity had lain in a closet in Will’s house. As Frederick had once mentioned that he got cold more frequently than he did before, Will had taken the quilt with him on his next visit and gave it to Frederick with a smirk. “How …” the psychiatrist had started and frowned at the item he had held at an arm’s length. “Horrible?” Will had finished but Frederick corrected him immediately, “… considerate.” Will had smirked, “How diplomatic …” Nevertheless, Will had noted with utter satisfaction how the blanket had been draped over the back of Frederick’s pristine white sofa at his next visit.

 

More frequently, Frederick came to Wolf Trap as Will was more comfortable with that scenario. Sometimes, he would pay for a taxi because “Seriously Will, I did earn the money from that damnable book for a reason …”, sometimes Will would pick him up. They would spend the afternoon at Will’s living room, the dogs continually warming up to the frequent visitor. One evening, Will sat one bag of trash onto the porch, waiting for Winston to take it up and carry it over to the bins in the driveway. Usually, he loved to so that. This evening, however, he stayed firmly planted to the ground next to the sofa, his head on Frederick’s thigh, as usual, and simply looked at Will. The same raised his eyebrow at the pair, pushed the porch door open and pointed his index finger at the dog and left the house with an accusing “Traitor!”

 

“Would it be terribly vain of me to consider hair transplantation?” Frederick asked one evening where he and Will sat together on Will’s sat-through sofa, watching television (after Frederick had complained for the what Will thought millionth time that he had no DVD-player). Frederick had decided to take a taxi out to his house again, as Will did have to work late fixing a particularly hard case of motor failure that day. Will himself thought that the question itself was an indicator against it. Still, Will answered, “That depends on the reasons I think …” Frederick’s quizzical look was met with a joking smile from Will, who had noticed that he did that more often those days: smile.

 

“Well I could always justify my simple wish to have hair again with how water and sweat and everything always makes its way into my eyes, being particularly bad on my left eye, but the simple truth is that I do not want to be bald.” Frederick chuckled nervously.

 

Will took the former psychiatrist’s hand in his own, “Of course it’s not vain Frederick. It really is understandable.”

 

“It is?” Frederick asked and Will laid his arm around the other man’s shoulder before whispering, “Of course it is …” Frederick’s breath quickened, which Will noticed, of course. To distract the other man, he asked, “When could you start with hair transplantation?”

 

“I don’t know”, the other man replied, “Surely not before next year, the skin will still be too tender but …” His eyes went down to their joined hands. Will only said, “It will be fine, it’ll work.”

 

Despite the lack of hair, Will and Frederick managed to go out – at least some.

Recently, Frederick had taken to taking Will’s dog’s out in Wolf Trap, the cool weather being favorable to his still healing skin. Out there in isolation, Frederick did not care about his appearance; their occasional walks in Baltimore were another thing, however. Frederick’s eyes were constantly scanning their surroundings if anybody who could recognize him – or Will, for that matter – was walking their way. Will could not see it through the sunglasses the other man was wearing when they were out, but he could feel it. Will briefly contemplated if he should say or do something that could ease the other man’s self-consciousness, but decided against it. He probably would only make it worse.

 

 

 

 

Then, one day, it was Frederick’s birthday.

Will knew as much from Alana, whom he had taken up contact with as well – albeit they only spoke occasionally. Naturally, Frederick had told her about their meetings, at least briefly. Will thought that he should do something, get Frederick something. But he couldn’t think about anything proper that stood out form their usual things like the odd book here and there or food. Suddenly, while fixing his vacuum – yes, he still hadn’t bought a new one – he had a brilliant idea. Making a few calls he couldn’t believe that it actually worked out. He quickly showered, dressed in about the only suit he owned, gave the dogs their dinner, getting some on his jacket of course so he had to clean it haphazardly before he let them out, trusting Winston to keep the pack together. He got into his car and sped off to Baltimore.

Once Frederick opened his door, the other man clearly did a double take. Apart from Will’s trial, he had probably never seen him in a suit. “Good evening … Will.” Frederick said and Will grinned, “Good evening Frederick. And happy birthday.”

 

He stepped into the corridor as Frederick opened the door for him. “Uh thanks. I … I didn’t know you knew about it …” the other man mumbled and Will shrugged, “Alana told me …”

 

Frederick nodded, grinning slightly, “Of course. So … Where’s my present?” Will laughed out loudly, which was met by Frederick’s, “Or is it you in a suit, which would be absolutely fine with me …” Realizing what he had just said, the other man blushed, but Will only grinned.

 

“Me in a suit is part of the present. It requires you in one too, though. So quick, get upstairs and get dressed …”

 

The psychiatrist did a double take, “Will? I …”

 

“No arguments. You, in a suit, now. You have ten minutes”, Will ordered. Frederick, who went upstairs clearly irritated mumbled something about the fact that if one wanted to put on a suit properly, it took more than ten minutes.

 

In fact, it did take him twelve and when he descended downstairs, Will whistled, “Why Doctor Chilton, you do look very handsome.” Frederick frowned his “raised-eyebrow”-frown, clearly indicating that Will had seen him in a suit before. Still, Will offered Frederick his arm and he guided the other man out of the door, not leaving him the chance to take his sunglasses with him, and successfully loading him into his car.

 

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me …” Frederick exclaimed, eyes fixed on the brightly lit building. “Will, I cannot go in there! Not like … this!” The man on his passenger’s seat waved towards his head but Will only shrugged. “You’ll have to, I do not allow any argument.”

 

“Aren’t birthdays supposed to be fun for the one’s having them?” Frederick mocked and Will leaned over, placing a hand on the other man’s. He knew he was being unfair, but usually, he could get the other one do so just about anything with this. “Frederick, if you truly do not want this, we can leave …” As he saw the lips of Frederick parting, he raised his index finger, “Let me finish. Look, it’s already quite late, almost everybody will be in their seats already, we have some close to the aisle as I wasn’t able to get better ones on such short notice, so no one will really have the chance to cast funny looks. I just … I thought it would be a good opportunity to get you out of your shell a bit.” Will looked at the building in front of them. Maybe it had been a huge mistake …

 

“You really took all the effort just for … my birthday?”

 

Will looked over at the other man and Will nodded. Once the smile crept over the other man’s face, Will knew he had won. “Then I don’t have a choice, do I?”

 

“Nope. Absolutely not!” Will exclaimed and got out of his side of the car, offering his arm again to Frederick as he climbed out of the same on the passenger’s side. Once Will had given his keys to the attendant, both made their way into the Baltimore Concert Opera. “I’ll have you know”, Will continued as they walked into the building, “… that I do not get my suit out for just about anybody.” Frederick chuckled.

 

When they had taken their seats that were truly not the best but they could see the stage just fine, Will felt Frederick tense, again starting with casting his gaze around nervously. Will bit his lip in concentration, worrying briefly if his next move was a wise one. Quickly weighing his options, he laid his hand on top of his companion’s, which lay stoically on his upper leg. Hesitantly, Will looked over as he was well aware that the other man hadn’t done anything like this in public so far. It was fine once they were in the security of one of their houses, but right here, practically on display, he didn’t know how the other man would react. Relief flooded him as Frederick turned his hand around and entwined their fingers. Will smiled brightly over at the other man while squeezing his hand, who smiled back.

During the concert, Will knew that his decision to get Frederick out of his shell – and really, wasn’t that rich, coming from him? He was sure he would hear about that later – had been the right one. The man at his side was completely lost in the music, following everything with great interest. If anything, Will felt happy. Well, happy and maybe a little smug.

 

Once the concert was over, they had to get up rather quickly – being seated close to the aisle did have its negative sides. Will was sure that Frederick would have loved to sit there until the whole opera had cleared out. Once they walked towards the entrance, Will realized that their hands were still joined. The former profiler leaned down and whispered in Frederick’s ear, “Too much? Should I let go?” Frederick, leaning onto his cane with his other hand, only shot back a “Please don’t.” which made Will smile lightly and run his thumb over the other man’s knuckles. He hoped it was reassuring, most of all because some people turned their heads as they saw them. If it was because they recognized Frederick, or him, or them together holding hands, Will didn’t know.

 

The ride back to Frederick’s house was quiet, although not unpleasantly so. As Will pulled up in front of it, Frederick looked over to the driver’s seat. “Would you … uh …” the psychiatrist started but broke off again. Only after a few moments that Will gladly gave him, he continued, “Would you come back in? I mean, for a drink or … Of course only if the dogs don’t need looking after.” He quickly cast his gaze down onto where he had placed his cane next to his legs, gripping the handle tightly.

 

“I’d like that”, Will confirmed and he actually heard Frederick release his breath. Will smiled as he parked his car in a conveniently empty spot right next to Frederick’s house after he had let the other man out. Once he walked up to the by then familiar entrance, he heard the other man rummaging around in the kitchen. “I’m afraid I have promised a little much …” Frederick called out as Will joined him in the room, his jacket already resting at one of the hooks in the corridor. The kitchen looked much more lived in than when he had first set foot in Frederick’s home. “I had hoped I still had a bottle of beer from the last time you visited but …” Frederick broke off. “No such luck”, Will continued and leaned onto the counter next to Frederick.

 

“No, unfortunately not. Would white be okay?” the psychiatrist asked and Will confirmed, really appreciating the other man remembering that he absolutely detested red wine. He had only drunk that at Hannibal’s dinner table … which surely contributed to the dislike nowadays. Frederick poured them both a stainless glass of Chardonnay before they settled onto the sofa in the living room with the hideous quilt on it. Will looked at it with a grin, “I’m glad you haven’t burned it yet.”

 

“I have to say, it was a close call”, Frederick teased and Will chuckled, finally being able to depict the other man’s sarcasm. “Will, I have to thank you for tonight …” Frederick started once each of them had a sip of the wine that had surely cost more than Will spent on beer in a whole month.

 

“You liked it?” Will asked, still not sure if he hadn’t taken everything a bit too far.

 

Frederick smiled, an honestly happy smile that Will was more than grateful for, “Yes. I liked it.” Will smiled and looked into his own lap, not knowing how to deal with compliments. They didn’t come on a regular basis so one could get used to them. “I really think I needed that, in order to … progress. In more than one way, actually.” Frederick continued and Will looked up again, just as Frederick took his hand and said, “Thank you.”

 

Will smiled and started to lean in. It seemed the natural thing to do, even to him and his bunch of complicated personality traits, but Frederick jerked back slightly. The former psychiatrist’s eyes searched his, opened in slight panic, and his breath quickened. Will bit hip lips. “May I Frederick?” he whispered, “On the lips?” Will’s hand came up to cup Frederick’s face, his thumb stroking where once Miriam Lasses bullet wound had been. It was only a faint scar amongst others nowadays. He felt the other man tremble. Still, Frederick nodded. Will smiled again just before he laid his lips chastely on Frederick’s whose trembles only intensified. Will pulled back for a quick instance, “Can you feel this?” Will whispered, Frederick only breathing a “Yes …” before Will moved in again. When their lips met for a second time, Frederick sighed audibly and leaned in further, taking up Will’s invitation to slightly part his lips and in turn, their kiss intensified. Once Will’s tongue gently touched Frederick’s, both men pulled back, breathing heavily. Will noted that already, Frederick’s pupils were blown wide, his irises being almost entirely black.

 

“Will I …” Frederick started after both had stared at each other for what could have been seconds or minutes, Will couldn’t say. “Why me?” he asked finally. At Will’s frown, he continued, bringing a slight distance between their bodies, “I mean, you’re – as you’ve told me – demi-sexual and … well, I keep wondering if …” he trailed off and Will entwined their fingers as he didn’t continue, “If what, Frederick?”

 

The other man sighed, “If you’re only being nice …”

 

Involuntarily, Will chuckled, “If I’m only being nice?”

 

“Yes, I mean …” Frederick threw his free hand up in exasperation, ringing with his words. Oddly, it reminded Will of the day when he showed up on his porch, asking if he could use his shower. “We didn’t get along … you despised me. I am not as intelligent and mysterious as Hannibal, I am not good with strays and I am certainly not as pretty as Alana – not anymore”, he added as a fake-joking comment which was aimed at easing the situation.

 

Will sighed. He thought that after tonight, they would be over this. Apparently, they were not. “Okay, first off: Thank God you’re nothing like Hannibal. Secondly, I did not despise you – not truly. You … irritated me at the time. With your cameras and microphones. You were treating me like a lab rat, which I did not appreciate too much. Thirdly …” Frederick sighed and Will squeezed his hand, “ _Thirdly_ we do share much more than I have shared with any of my previous … romantic interests.” Frederick frowned, “Broken down to essentials, we are both lonely, isolated from everybody else. We both had to hide certain aspects of our personalities in order to … pass.” Frederick winced, “We had to pretend to be someone we were not in order to appear like coming up to the standards of normality the general public holds. We were both manipulated to do cruel things by other people. And we certainly have the scars to prove it.” Will carefully left out that they were at the time both considered to be mass murderers. The same mass murderer, even. Somehow, it wouldn’t serve his purpose, he supposed.

 

Frederick chuckled nervously, a tear rolling down his cheek, “I guess when you put it like that …”

 

Will was glad Frederick squeezed his hand back, so he said, “And I don’t think you’re that bad with the dogs. Winston likes you …” Now Frederick laughed out loudly and Will pulled him closer by laying an arm around his shoulder, kissing the side of his face. “I hope you believe me, Frederick”, he finished in a more serious tone and only felt the other man nod. After some time that was spend quietly between the two men, Will pulled Frederick down to lie onto the sofa, his arm still around the other man’s shoulders and thanked Frederick exuberant taste for the size of the piece of furniture. The other man followed Will’s lead willingly and at the back of his mind Will noted how both of their suit trousers would crinkle. As Frederick pulled down the quilt from the back of the sofa, Will had to laugh and fondly ran his hand over the other man’s arm. As they lay there, Frederick asked, “Can I have another kiss?”

 

Will grinned against Frederick’s bald head, whispering “Only because it’s your birthday” before both men turned so that their lips could meet. When they had settled down, Frederick whispered “It’s already after midnight …” whilst he played with Will’s fingers – a gesture that the former profiler found oddly calming.

 

“I know.”

 

 

 

 

The first time Will and Frederick slept together was over two months after the night at the opera. Both men had agreed to move slowly – and this suited Will just fine. In his previous relationships, he often had to take things at a quicker pace than he would have liked in order to prevent the respective other party from leaving him. But with Frederick and his lack of relationships, Will’s pace was just fine. So one night when Frederick came over to Will with a DVD-player tucked under his arm (“Seriously Frederick?” – “As a very wise man once said on my birthday: No Arguments!”), they first watched the movie the other man had brought with him: _The Beauty and The Beast_. Will was almost certain that this was payback for his _Ugly Duckling_. Then, they ate together, Will having prepared a casserole before they started to make out right after they had tended to the dishes. Usually Will did the washing and Frederick dried the clean dishes – because the psychiatrist’s skin was still sensitive to high water temperature. As they stood there by the sink, kissing and hands roaming the respective others’ body, Will accidentally brushed his thigh against Frederick’s erection. The older man hissed and Will leaned in further, whispering, “What do you think, should we do something about that?” The former profiler took the quiet whimpering as a “Yes.”

 

After letting the dogs out because “Seriously Will, I am not doing this with … them watching me!” both men settled on the bed in Will’s living room. The newly-won confidence that Frederick had acquired during their kissing sessions faded quickly, as Will realized. He planted a kiss on the other man’s lips and whispered, “We won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, Frederick. You know that, right?”

 

Frantic nods were the result and Will hoped dearly that he could kiss some of the worries away. After some time they spent with things that Frederick was already familiar with, Will let himself drop onto his knees on the floor, his hand wandering to the fly of Frederick’s dark jeans. The man on the bed inhaled quickly and Will only smiled up at him, “Relax. … If you want me to stop, just tell me, alright?”

 

“Yeah …” Frederick breathed and bit his lip. Will carefully opened the fly and let his hand run experimentally across the already swollen flesh underneath the fabric of Frederick’s black boxer briefs. As Will continued, the other man’s breathing grew ragged and as soon as Will placed an open mouthed kiss to the still clothed hard-on, Frederick stopped him. “Oh God Will … Stop! Stop!”

 

A little taken aback Will retreated and set back on his heels. “You’re not comfortable?” It really was the only thing to say that made sense to him at that moment.

 

“No it’s not that … It’s …” Will saw the fists of the psychiatrist tighten onto his sheets. “Oh God, this is so embarrassing …”

 

“Nothing you could tell me right now would be considered embarrassing by me …” Will encouraged truthfully.

 

Frederick took a deep breath. “It … I … The last time I did this with … somebody else …” Will nodded, “Uhm … It literally has been decades ago, Will.”

 

“Really? Plural?” Will asked and Frederick buried his face in his hand, trying to hide his blush.

 

Will smiled, “Hey, don’t hide the red in your cheeks, this means that your skin is improving …” Frederick scoffed, “Very funny!”

 

The curly-haired man ran his hands up and down the other man’s legs, “As I said, it is nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s fine … I’ll take it slow, I promise.”

 

“It’s not that. I trust you. It’s just …” Frederick threw his hands up, “I don’t know how … quick I’ll be.”

 

Will grinned, “There’s only one way to find out …” He placed his open mouth once again on the other man’s crotch, this time sucking and licking a little. The younger man was instantly rewarded by Frederick’s groans. Encouraged, Will let his hands wander to the other man’s hips, gently pulling the jeans down, Frederick lifting his hips just a little. Once the jeans were gone, Will played with the hem of the black boxer briefs, once again tasting the fabric on his tongue which was rapidly mixing with Frederick’s original scent. Will pulled the fabric down and as Frederick’s erection sprang free, the other man hissed. Will once licked his lips, then slicked his palm with his own spit and wrapped it around the flushed shaft. A strangled cry that got caught in Frederick’s throat reached Will’s ears and he looked up. As he saw that the other man pressed his lips together tightly, Will rose slightly and kissed him tenderly. “Don’t mute yourself Frederick. I want to hear you, alright?” Frantic nods again. “Good”, was all Will said before he moved down again and kissed the tip of Frederick’s cock.

 

“AAHH!” The shout echoed off in the sparsely furnished room.

 

Will only pulled off to give Frederick another “Good” before he sat to work again. It really didn’t take much: A few tugs synchronized with the movement of his head and the experimental tonguing of the crown of his erection and Frederick came, shouting loudly. Originally, Will intended to swallow everything but … well, there was a lot. Will however, did not mind. He pulled back, wiping his chin and cheeks with his sleeve. Frederick, once he was coherent enough to look at Will, he was positively horrified: “Oh my God! Will! … I am – I am so sorry …”

 

Will only patted the other man’s knee, “Don’t be … I’m serious. I mean, if it has been decades …”

 

“Oh, do shut up …”

 

Will only chuckled.

 

In retrospect, it shouldn’t really have surprised Will that Frederick switched to Spanish once they had gotten to the real sex after he had taken the edge of. During the preparation Will did, Frederick still had some control over himself, albeit he moaned the house down. Will could not say that he minded in the slightest, but he noticed that one of the dogs curiously scratched the porch door. Maybe they needed to take this to Frederick’s the next time.

 

But as Will carefully entered him, condom slicked with olive oil (because really, he hadn’t planned this at all) the Spanish started. “Oh … Dios, sí!” Will had to bite his lip to keep from grinning. Will didn’t understand Spanish, but he supposed he got the hang of it. _Sí_ was not so difficult after all, _Dios_ was fine too and he could just fathom what _más rapido_ meant. Oh, and _bien_. _Bien_ was good with him too, literally.

 

Once both men lay together in bed afterwards and Frederick was almost asleep, again with Will’s arms draped around him, Will just couldn’t hold back any longer. “Frederick?”

 

“Hmmmm?” came the tried reply.

 

Will bit his lip before he said, “Even if I seem unsophisticated asking this, but what does _más duro_ mean exactly?”

 

“OH MY GOD!”

 

Will only chuckled and kissed Frederick on the head.

 

 

 

 

In Frederick’s defense, it had taken the psychiatrist long enough to ask that particular question and Will respected him greatly for it. He had been sure that it would come up at some point, it was only logical. This _some poin_ t turned out to be one evening in late April, when Frederick had called Will and asked him to come over to his house. Slightly alarmed, Will had driven to the city and let himself in with his own set of keys only to find Frederick sitting stoically by a window facing the street. The hair transplant hadn’t worked. It had been something that Frederick had looked forward to immensely, Will knew that. What Will hadn’t known thus far was the fact that his partner wasn’t so broken up about it due to mere aesthetical reasons but because he feared more than anything that it would displease Will.

 

Once Will had tried his best to cheer him up, mostly unsuccessfully, they went to bed – Will demonstrating that he didn’t mind one single bit about the fact if Frederick had hair or not – Frederick settling himself on top of Will’s chest. “Will … Can I ask you something?”

 

“Sure”, Will replied, eyes closed and trailing his hands over the other man’s back.

 

He felt Frederick frown against his torso, “You don’t have to answer of course, if you don’t wish to. It’s none of my business after all …”

 

“Alright …” Will answered, still painting invisible patterns on the skin on Frederick’s back.

 

The psychiatrist cleared his throat, “You and … Hannibal …” Will hummed non-committedly, “You also had sex together, didn’t you?”

 

Will took a moment to think before he snorted, “If only I knew …”

 

“What?” Frederick asked, head snapping up from the other man’s chest, positively horrified, “Please tell me he didn’t use light therapy on you again? Did he … create black-outs?”

 

Will chuckled, “No. No. … Well, to answer the most basic question: No, we didn’t have sex. Not like you and me, not like what the average person would consider as having sex. Intercourse. Whatever.” Frederick’s  frown deepened and Will continued, “Sure, we spent our nights together, sleeping in the same bed, getting naked in front of each other, touching … but … I don’t know, somehow it was always very distant. To me it felt like he would admire his latest, grandest work of art from afar and get off on it. It was never physical, always aesthetical.”

 

“You mean … like a painter admires his painting?” Frederick caught up and Will nodded. “Exactly. He once even called me his David. It was creeping me out, to say the least.”

 

Will cast his gaze that had been fixed on the ceiling to the man in his arms and found him frowning. “Hm. Okay, thank you for telling me that.”

 

“You’re welcome, _mi amor_.” See, he had picked up a thing or two.

 

Before he laid down again on Will’s still sweat-slick chest, Frederick muttered, “I swear this was the only time Hannibal got into our bed.” Will chuckled. This was fine to him after all.

 

 

 

 

About four years later, Jack Crawford got out of his black SUV that he had parked right in Will’s driveway. The familiar sound of gravel that clinked under his steps followed him to the porch of the old house. He noted that the surroundings of Will’s small house were neater than when he had last seen them. Sure, Will had always looked after the house, it had never been untidy, but now it seemed looked-after.

 

As he closed the last few steps to the porch, a predictable amount of dogs came running his way, barking and sniffing curiously at his trousers. Some of them, however, stayed on the porch, hindering one Frederick Chilton to get up properly.

 

“Doctor Chilton”, Jack greeted and tried to climb the steps without stepping on a dog.

 

The other man had finally shooed the dogs away far enough that he could greet the FBI agent. “Not anymore, Jack.” Both men shook hands before Jack said, “I’m glad that our meeting at Will’s house is a more pleasant one than the last time we met in that approximate setting.”

 

Frederick chuckled humorlessly, “It isn’t really though, is it?”

 

Jack Crawford sighed, “I’m afraid not. I’m here to speak to Will, is he around?” The former psychiatrist nodded and promised to get Will from inside.

 

Jack stayed on the porch and not a minute afterwards, Will came out his front door. “Jack”, he greeted the other man happily, smiling all over his face. Jack noted that he looked healthy, he had some tan and even put on some weight. More than anything, his eyes looked more alive than Jack had ever seen.

“Will … It’s so good to see you”, Jack greeted and was almost surprised that the other man met him in a quick hug.

 

“So, it’s really true, huh? You and Chilton …” Jack said, once they had started to walk to the back of the house, away from the dogs.

 

Will grinned sheepishly, “Seems that way, yes …”

 

“He looks … good”, Jack said, not sure how to phrase that particular observation. After all, the scars on the former psychiatrist’s face were only a thin net of white lines, his skin had a healthy tone and even his hair seemed to have grown back.

 

Will nodded, looking fondly over to where Frederick had settled again at the porch in front of his laptop. “Yeah … Finally, the hair transplant worked. Third time’s truly the charm, it seems …”

 

 _Ah, so there was that._ As Jack inquired if he was working again, Will nodded, “He’s writing a book again. A novel, this time. … But nothing like the book before that. He said it’s about travelling or something”, Will explained after Jack had raised his eyebrows in a questioning way.

 

“But you surely aren’t here to talk about Frederick and me, are you?” Will asked, the ever-observant devil.

 

Jack sighed, “No, I’m afraid not. I’m sure you’ve heard about the abductions and consequent murders …” Will raised his eyebrows in question and Jack clarified, “The ones caused by whomever the press has decided to call Buffalo Bill.”

 

Will nodded, “Yeah … I’ve heard about it. Though we don’t watch the news often …”

 

 ** _We_** _don’t watch the news often_. Jack noted the phrasing immediately. “I see … Well, what can I say Will, we got nothing and we would appreciate it enormously if you could help us out.”

 

The man in front of him nodded, fumbling with the hem of his plaid shirt. Seconds turned into minutes, but Jack knew better as to ask again. Will needed his time, he knew that by now.

Finally, his former colleague replied, “I’m sorry Jack but I can’t.”

 

“You can’t or you do not want to?” Jack asked which Will met with “Both.” Jack raised his eyebrows.

 

“I can’t because you know as well as I do that it will all start over again. The panic attacks, the digging in too deep, the stress, the … Well, everything. You know what I mean.” Jack nodded, “And I do not want to because finally … finally, I have a somewhat normal life. I live here with a person I care for and who cares for me. It has been a long way Jack. The last time I put a situation like that at risk, a mass murderer tried to kill first my dogs and then my wife and step-son before he tried to kill me and practically forced me to spend months with Hannibal Lecter. I … I do not wish to put my private life at risk again … and I can’t. … Because it would kill me this time, Jack. I’m sorry.”

 

The addressed man then took a moment himself to take it all in before he nodded. “I understand.”

 

Will frowned at him, “You do?”

 

Jack smiled, “Of course Will. I have put your life at risk a time too many. Or ten.” Will chuckled and Jack grinned, “I am happy that you managed to find some peace, God knows you deserve it.”

 

“Thank you, Jack”, Will said and both men walked back towards Jack’s car again. Will bid Jack good-bye, Frederick calling from the porch. As Jack looked closer at the table the former psychiatrist sat at, he noticed a small, orange cat lying on top of it. “You collecting tabbies now too Will?”

 

Will smiled, “This one’s on Frederick I swear.”

 

Jack nodded and opened the door of his car.

 

“Jack?” Will called out again and the FBI agent turned around, “I … We would like it if you came by one time, for … dinner. You know, when you’re not asking about a job. We’d like that.”

 

Jack grinned and nodded his head at the two men before he got in his car.

As he started it, he saw Chilton walk up unsteadily but without his cane to Will, arm wandering around his former employees waist and Will placing his over the other man’s shoulder, kissing the space right in front of his ear. As he maneuvered his SUV out onto the deserted street again, Jack thought that if he would take this – whatever it was – away from Will, it would be him who could be considered a monster.

 

Once his car was on its way to Baltimore again, he realized he had to face his own demons this time. There were a few very promising cadets at the Academy whom he could set on the case. Mind used to being always busy, he mentally checked through the names at hand. Starling seemed like a good possibility …

 


End file.
